


Pieces of You

by rowofstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2018-04-19 06:23:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4735772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things about you I collect and sell to no one. Ten and Rose go to a fair. Written for challenge 16 at <a class="i-ljuser-profile" href="http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/">then_theres_us</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of You

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/profile)[anepidemic](http://anepidemic.livejournal.com/). (Do I need to say more than that?) This is my entry for Challenge 16 at [](http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/profile)[then_theres_us](http://then-theres-us.livejournal.com/). It's a competitive challenge this week, so go read the awesome fics and vote! The prompts I chose were this snippet of poetry:

The air is hot but the touch of autumn in the breeze keeps it comfortable. He can smell popcorn and frying oil and dust from the gravel midway. Arm in arm they stroll, the scattered sounds of hawkers and carnies, anxious children and impatient parents filling the air. She laughs and presses against his arm in a way that’s too close, yet not close enough.

The world is busy and shifting around them, but they remain untouched in the midst of it all. He rambles on idly as they walk, and she only sort of listens because the words seem less important than the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he smiles, like it’s just for her. She hopes he knows that hers, all tongue and teeth and curvy glossed lips, are just for him too.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He lets her talk him into some silly tea cup ride, and he knows they’ve had wilder rides on the Tardis but it’s what she wants, so it’s what he wants too. She wobbles on her way off the ride like she’s drunk off its short spins and looping whirls. A few locks fall free from the clip in her hair, and he can’t resist sliding one through his fingers before tucking it behind her ear.

The look she gives him is shy but appreciative, and then a moment later she’s walking backwards, pulling him with both hands, to the line of concessions. He pretends to drag his feet, if only so he can watch her dress flutter around her legs as she scolds him to move faster.

 

 

* * *

 

 

He hands the young man a few bills he pulled from somewhere deep in his left pocket. She teases him that he still owes her for the chips and ten quid for Queen Victoria, but soon forgets when the stick of pink fluff is handed over.

She turns it around and around before unwinding a long piece. He stares as her tongue flicks out, gathering a few strands of the sugary floss from her fingers. She makes a soft, low sound as it melts away to nothing in her mouth, the way the right words always do in his.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The sun is setting as they make their way back to the Tardis. The air is cooler now so he offers up his coat to her, though it’s far too long and drags a little on the ground. Her hair falls to her shoulders as she pulls the clip free and shakes her head. He decides then and there that he’s never going to wash that coat again so the scent of her shampoo will always be there, tucked inside the collar.

She holds up her hands, giggling at the way the sleeves envelope them, the tips of her shiny, red nails sticking out. A breeze brushes passed them and she grows quiet, looking up at him, head tilting expectantly. There’s a static charge in the air, swapping electrons with him against his will, drawing him towards her, and maybe she really is his magnetic north.

Her lips are far too pink and inviting and he thinks the taste of them will probably be sickeningly sweet, but he wants to press his against hers, sweep his tongue across them and find out anyway.

They meet in the middle, hands slipping inside to find her waist, her hands at his neck. Her mouth parts on a sigh, tongue pushing against his offering up its sticky sweetness, and damn he loves being right. He kisses her there in the red and white glow of The Scrambler, the lights dancing in her hair, shrieks of the riders echoing in his ears. They separate just enough to rest their foreheads together, laughter floating from her chest into his as he breathes, filling up all the empty spaces inside.

 

 

* * *

 

 

His fingers tangle in her hair as they stumble through the door, then she’s under and over and all around him. Honeyed noises drip from her lips as she falls apart, and he laps each one up along with the salty sweat of her neck. Her thighs tighten around his slim hips when he comes, and the way she whispers his name in his ear sounds like the answer to everything.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It’s these things that he saves up, stored like secrets between his hearts, because she said forever, and he’s going to make it true.


End file.
